~SHATTERED SILENCE~
The next morning, I was the first one awake. It was barely nine, the house still quiet, everyone lost in sleep. Since I couldn't fall back again, I decided to get ready.
I slipped into a light-blue frock, soft and airy, short enough to reach only mid-thigh. The color made my skin glow, and my hair, loose in soft curls, framed my face naturally. I glanced at myself in the mirror—it wasn't perfect, but it was enough.
By the time the rest of them finally dragged themselves out of bed, it was nearly eleven. Raffy appeared, as usual, effortlessly composed—white shirt, slim trousers, and a lightweight black jacket. His dark hair was swept back in that careless style of his, like he hadn't tried at all yet somehow looked flawless.
We ordered breakfast online, but the delivery took forever. By the time it arrived, it was already half past one. We gathered around the table, half-starved and impatient.
The conversation drifted as we ate.
"Finally," Zara sighed dramatically. "If the food had taken any longer, I would have fainted."
"You faint even when you're not hungry," Ayan teased, earning laughter from everyone.
Zain shook his head with a smirk. "Stop complaining. At least we don't have to cook."
Maheen raised her eyebrows. "Exactly. Let's just enjoy the food for once."
Raffy, chewing lazily, muttered, "You people can turn even breakfast into a debate."
Laughter bubbled around the table again—until the doorbell rang.
Maheen's face instantly lit up.
"She's here," she whispered, almost giddy. "And you all haven't even finished breakfast yet!"
Everyone turned toward the door. Everyone except Raffy, who kept eating, unconcerned, as if nothing had happened.
Maheen hurried across the living room, her steps quick and excited. She opened the door wide.
And then she entered.
I froze. My breath caught in my throat. *Her? Here?*
Maheen squealed her name, "Haniya!" and wrapped her arms around her. The room shifted instantly—everyone rose from their seats, smiles spreading, voices full of warmth.
But me? My chest tightened. My eyes stung with tears that I tried desperately to blink away. The room blurred for a second. I lowered my gaze, wiping at my eyes before anyone noticed.
*Why is she here? Why with them? Do they know who she is? What if she tells them? If Raffy finds out… if everyone finds out… will everything shatter?*
One by one, they greeted her. Even Raffy finally stood, his expression unreadable, and gave her a quick side hug. She laughed easily, as if she belonged, as if she had always been a part of this circle.
And then her eyes found mine.
She recognized me. She didn't have to say it—the sparkle in her gaze, the small curve of her lips said it all.
She walked over, smiling knowingly. I forced my hand forward. We shook hands, polite but stiff, like strangers meeting for the first time. Then I quickly turned to leave.
But Raffy caught my hand mid-step.
"Where are you going?" His voice was quiet but firm. "At least finish breakfast."
I looked at him and forced a smile. "I already have," I lied gently. "I'll be back in a minute."
He studied me for a moment before nodding, letting go.
I slipped away into the nearest room, closed the door softly—not locked, just closed—and leaned against it, my heart pounding in my chest.
Secrets I thought I had buried were suddenly standing right in front of me. And I had no idea what would happen next.
**Raffy's POV**
Everyone left their breakfast half-finished and gathered in the lounge, chatting with Haniya as if they had known her forever. She was sitting right beside me—the same place Wateen had occupied yesterday. The contrast stung. One second she had said she'd be back in a minute, and now… it had been so long. Where did she go?
I stood up, ready to find her. But Haniya caught my hand.
"It's been a year since we met, Raffy," she said with a soft smile. "And you're already leaving? Sit for a while, talk to me."
I forced a polite smile, gently freeing my hand. "I'll be back. Just… need to bring Wateen."
At my words, Haniya gave me a strange smile and simply nodded. Something in her eyes made me uncomfortable, but I didn't stop.
As I reached the room, I froze. From inside, I could hear Wateen's muffled sobs. Quiet, broken, as if she didn't even want the world to know she was crying. My chest tightened.
I pushed the door open—
She was on the floor, sitting against the couch, head buried in the cushions, arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to disappear. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, she looked up, startled, and hurriedly wiped her tears.
"You—what are you doing here?" she asked quickly, forcing a smile. But her eyes… red, swollen, trembling. I had never seen her like this.
A thought flashed in my mind—*Could Haniya really be her sister?* No, impossible. I had known Haniya since class 8. She had always sworn she had no siblings. My head spun.
"Wateen…" I stepped closer. She flinched. Her smile wavered.
"I'm fine," she whispered. "It's nothing. I just… Haniya's dress— I wanted to buy the same one, but I couldn't."
The lie was too obvious. Her voice shook, her eyes gave her away.
"Stop it," I said firmly, kneeling in front of her. "Don't hide it from me. Why are you crying?"
She stared at me, eyes full of storms, and suddenly her body swayed backward. I caught her just in time, my heart almost stopping. Laying her gently on the couch, I rushed to the side table, grabbed a glass of water, and sprinkled it on her face.
For a moment, nothing. Then slowly, her lashes fluttered open. Relief crashed through me like a wave. I brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
"Don't force yourself to smile," I whispered. "If you want to cry, cry."
And she did. Her body shook as the sobs broke free, her voice raw and trembling. She clutched me desperately, burying her head in my chest as though letting go would mean falling apart completely. Her tears soaked through my shirt, but it wasn't my shirt that was heavy— it was my heart.
She trembled in my arms like a frightened bird, wings broken, too exhausted to fly. The sound of her sobs tore me apart. I couldn't hold it anymore—my own tears spilled, helpless and hot, sliding down as I held her tighter.
But no matter how much I cried, the truth was cruel: the pain belonged to her, not me. The scars were hers. I could only witness, only break with her.
In that moment, I hated myself. What use was my life if I couldn't protect her from this? What worth did I have if she could be shattered like this right in front of me while I sat with the very people who had caused her pain?
Her cries were my punishment. And her tears… were the heaviest sentence I had ever received.